1733 12 11
|
Jesus came strolling
by in his sandally Jesus foot sandals.
|
173300
|
The words(worlds) have become abstracted through contempt?
|
173222
|
The old man had always known things, was feared and revered up and down the valley for knowing things. I’d heard the stories since the day I was born.
|
17321312
|
// opening act: van featuring balloon featuring drugs
// headliner: lubv ya babe
|
1732117
|
“Everything is neon, “ I say.
|
17321815
|
She grinned when he steadied himself against the sofa. “Boy, I know you.”
|
173292
|
What is the meaning of you?
|
1732155
|
I made myself tiny as I could, imagining I was Houdini shackled underwater, holding my nose and practicing my escape...
|
173221
|
On a hot summer day in downtown San Francisco, a flasher gets more than he bargains for when the woman he flashed at a coffeehouse pulls out a gun.
|
173277
|
can they approve, our/gods in our wallets? only/when we tell them to.
|
17322311
|
|
1732138
|
All the years since, until this morning, I'd thought the actor was James Gregory.
|
1732168
|
Unapproachable... for all that.
|
173191
|
for paul celan take it like an amulet a jewel like a tulip filling up the expanse of green the volatile view from within your thin wrist you write into manuscript for the hand is a map with but grasping still it is but a like two palms like a…
|
173142
|
I met a girl so sweet, So sweet that she could Break your heart No girl, no one should Be so sweet So sweet that she melts My depression Increase my anxiety No one should be so sweet More like a little girl Than her 25 years If…
|
173152
|
All is Ready I have bathed in patchouli oil and my hair gleams, lustrous with brushing. I am wearing my gold ankle bracelets with the ruby charms that my love gave me when we had been married one year. My robe is fuschia silk and under it I wear…
|
173130
|
The others fell silent and cast glances back and forth to each other.
|
173181
|
As I watched her sleep, I saw gentle frost and sun on crystal.
|
173186
|
I haven’t read many of them, these poets
that they speak of – Whitman and his Leaves
Of Grass, Mary Oliver and her wild life
|
1731104
|
Digging in another garden, jumping into another space and time, I impaled a toad on the tines of a garden fork. At first I thought the toad was a clump of clay, stuck to the thick tine, but before I could kick the clay off with my…
|
17311313
|
Of course then I did it all over again. Got married, that is. Fortunately, this one worked out.
|
173111
|
By: Roz Warren (and Janet Golden)I'm a humor writer. My work appears in publications from The Funny Times to The New York Times. Janet is a history professor whose writing was confined to academic journals and the occasional op-ed. Driving back from the Jersey shore one…
|
17311713
|
|
17311717
|
I was out of my element. I was on property that wasn't mine. In a woods with mansions tucked away among the trees.
|
173194
|
Oh, what jealousy does to us! What love does to the living!
|
17311310
|
|
1731102
|
I won’t be eating much anyway if someone doesn’t start reading me. I’ve got to get a hook so people will be drawn to my work. I’ve got a few concepts I’d like to share with you. See what you think.
|
173000
|
oh, sure i’m still running around like a heads-up/off/prophet/profit/fit trying to cut off my very own de/(con)instruction and all other sordid a•void•able & available/a-Babel towers of post &toastmodern doom/daze
|
17301613
|
There is no hate in his eyes...
|
173064
|
The bartender keeps asking what you smell and you say: lemons, oak, and pear. I smell lust. We move to the reds. Pinot Noir. Cabernet Sauvignon. Port.
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